


In Your Eyes

by eggsky



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Edging, M/M, Masturbation, Mr Robot making use of elliot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Webcams, business as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 22:32:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17569172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggsky/pseuds/eggsky
Summary: Mr. Robot hasn't seen Elliot in months and it's become a problem. He's going to see Elliot anyway he can, even if that means using their webcam to fuck himself on their bed. Hey, he's gotta get off to him somehow, right?





	In Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first thing i've written for mr. robot and it's what keeps me up at night. it's short, it's horny, so here you go. i hope you have as much fun reading it as i had writing it.

Mr. Robot lifts a small webcam attachment and faces it towards the desk chair. After adjusting it a few times with the playback screen a visual of himself is clear, seen smiling for a moment before pressing record. 2:37 A.M.

  
-

  
The time stamp started, and it’s now at 00:00:57, his pants are at his ankles and his underwear rolls down his thighs. His cock, erecting high and hot to the touch, being gripped by a matching warmth of his palm. He starts slow, loosening his hand on the lower end of his shaft working up to long exaggerated strokes.

 

Lighter sighs escape him, “Good, oh that’s- Mmn.”

 

His hands are too dry. Mr. Robot pauses and looks around the room, around the computers, and reminds himself spit will have to make do. He licks the palms of his hands until they’re slick and gets back to business. One hand cups his own balls, toying with them as the other works the tip of his cock.

 

“Don’t I look like a slut.”

 

He stares into the camera lens and then at the recording, his own image as the prophet. Having time to release the stress their shared body feels as Elliot isn’t here to enjoy it.

 

But HE _will_.

 

He will have this on tape, call it his own personal cam-whore, his attraction to Elliot may be many types fucked up that the shrinks would have a personal field day with, but he doesn’t care, it’s good to get it out of your system.

 

  
He releases his balls after a lazy massage to get into character. It's easy being Elliot when he must be, but here he can have Elliot be whoever he wants him to. Right now he wants to see the kiddo finger fuck himself.

 

“Time for some entertainment.”

 

He strips himself from his shirt, leaving him now naked on the chair. He swivels the desk chair back to the camera.

 

“No no, it won’t do.”

 

He stands, cock released from the friction of a toying hand and he steps out of his pants that had fallen to the floor. He shoves the chair away and kneels onto the bed, finding lubricant just peaking out from underneath a pillow. What luck. The cap has small teeth marks from Flipper, he grabs it and squeezes enough to prepare himself, rubbing it gingerly to heat it between his palms. Robot turns to peak over his shoulder, his ass is the first thing he sees. It’s his own, and he enjoys it deeply, but he’s solid to the touch imagining Elliot kneeling on the bedspread, hard.

 

He can’t wait much longer. He crawls to sit on the edge of the bed, then scoots himself further back so his front becomes angled directly at the webcam. He pumps his cock a few times and throws his head back, escaping the moans Elliot would repress. He tests how loud he could be, even yells out “Mr. Robot!” And dammit, that was embarrassing.

 

His other hand grips the meat of his bottom and he spreads his cheeks to part himself. Delicately as he was doesn’t want to harm Elliot, he presses a wet index against his opening. Deepening down the knuckle until it meets his hand and slides back out.

  
“Uhhn,” he croaks, jerking himself harder. It’s not enough, it will never be enough.

  
He repeats this, drawing out his finger with careful examination of where he’s pressing and how tight it feels. He stops hand fucking his cock, it’s too early, he can cum from this alone. Feeling bold he inserts his middle, guaranteed to stretch himself open. It’s not the first time, he can quickly adjust to scissoring the skin wide, but this isn’t his body, no matter how much the mind presents the illusion.

 

“More, yeah, if I’m good. I’ll get more.”

 

From the recording video perspective, it’s Elliot’s body, his forehead and his chest slowly becoming slick with the first beads of frustration sweat. Their knees pressed up into his chest, their fingers digging into their hole with a thumb rubbing against the skin of the balls. Shared cock, leaking a sticky puddle on the stomach making Robot squirm to touch. His gasps for air, moaning to an embarrassingly high pitch. Fuck, Robot needs to find the prostate, he needs to make Elliot feel good. No, HE needs it. This is for _him_ , this body and these feelings are _his_ for once in his existence. He wants to feel it all.

 

He gets down to just finding his prostate, pulling back his hand and squeezing half the bottle of lube coating his hand.

 

“Too much! Fuck!”

 

He curses and laughs to himself, guiding back inside along the walls of soft tissue to find hope. He shudders, brushing it makes him rock side to side, he drops a leg down to lift his hips up off the bed. He curls his toes and they grab onto the sheet, his hand glues to his cock in a desperate rhythm. It doesn’t line up with his fingers, but it’s so fucking overpowering. He’s on fire. The friction of his hand is heaven, the sweet finger-fucking is god himself. Yet it’s a show, he’s being filmed. He can’t cum yet, a sweet release that’ll settle Elliot in until the early morning, a usual mutual body feeling of being half rested. Controlled penetration has an intensity that will push him over the edge. If he is to lose due to being overly worked up, he’s going out with a bang.

 

He stares into the lens of the small webcam. Gradually he slides his hand up the shaft, pinching the tip of his cock so the dribble of pre-cum and lubricant mixture can moisten his fingers, and runs it over his bottom lip until it glistens like a gloss. He licks it, sticking his tongue over it and shuts his eyes to admire the taste. It’s nothing impressive, mostly an oily neutral from lube, but the effect had a purpose.

 

He’s rock hard and without enough hands, Elliot would be so useful right now if he wasn’t keeping himself separated. He’d want him to kiss him, to suck on his tongue and moan into his mouth. Encourage him to move his lips down on his throat, nibble on his rough whiskers on his jaw, to have him press his cock against his own.

 

“Uhn, EL...”

 

Maybe someday he’d let Elliot fuck him. Every top has a desire to bottom, at least once. _No_ , nevermind, screw that. This cock needs Elliot, and he knows it–deep down, as he fucks himself urgently, it’s Elliot’s body that's craving Mr. Robot.

 

“Ah-oh, you’re so good for me, my good boy good my- ELLIOT.”

 

It’s the thought of sending him over the edge, he jolts up and sends white streaks over his own chest. He sees stars. His cheeks tighten, his hole closes around his fingers as he shakes with the last few milliseconds of reaching his g-spot. He slides his fingers over his stomach collecting the sticky mess on the tips of his fingers and shoves them through his lips, sucking the mess. It’s good, it’s pure Elliot.

He winces as he removes his wet fingers from his hole. He’s so dirty, he can smell his own sex, and he loves it.

 

It's the perfect night. Until he suddenly can feel a shift in himself like the walls are closing in and he’s being shut out.

 

“No, NO NO NO!”

 

The kid is waking up to him stark naked post-orgasm. He'll see everything. Mr. Robot throws the lubricant at the wall, kicks forward leaping off the edge of the bed and rushes to the computer. He stops the recording, and it asks for a save before closing, he hesitates and blinks hard, trying to stop Elliot from coming to a front. He’s almost there, he can feel the confusion, he moves the mouse to hit don’t save and-

  
_

 

Elliot stands over his own computer heaving with exhaustion. 3:04 A.M.

**Author's Note:**

> comments, kudos, and suggestions are always helpful, yet i am a crybaby so be fucking ruthless you animals. i'll consider chaptering it if it's worth your time, thank you for reading.


End file.
